Yes, Hermione
by Dream-Like-State
Summary: Molly and Arthur are gone, and guess who's left to look after the brood of Weasleys, Potters, painted Siriuses and Oliver Wood after his wedding day? Why Hermione, of course. Read along as she struggles with sibling rivalry, love and life in general.
1. Good Morning, Hermione

**This was written for the Den Mother Hermione challenge by Winter's Empire. Enjoy XD**

**Chapter One**

Hermione stretched out on her large bed, yawning as the sun hit her face, blinding her slightly. "'Morning, Sirius." She said happily, gazing up at his seemingly empty portrait.

"Bugger!" He stepped out from behind the large yellow chair, looking quite offended. "How did you know this time? It wasn't Harry who tipped you off, was it?" He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms sulkily.

She laughed. "I have my ways, Sirius." She smirked.

His sulky expression turned to a grin as she stepped out of bed, pulling her dressing gown over her shoulders and tying it off. "I wonder if anyone else –"

CRASH!

"Ah, the Twins must be attempting to make breakfast again..." Sirius muttered, thoroughly amused.

Hermione scowled. "What have I bloody TOLD them?" She grumbled angrily, closing her door loudly before stomping down the stairs. "What have you done,_ now_?" She demanded, attempting to keep her calm upon finding George with half a plate in his guilty hand.

"Nothing, Hermione, I promise. It was all Charlie!" He squeaked, watching as the petite witch's eyes moved from him to Fred and finally landing on Charlie, who was slumped on the table, apparently enjoying his scrambled eggs.

She cocked an eyebrow. "_How_ on _Earth_, George, did Charlie, who happens to be _passed out_ on the table, manage to break a plate?"

"What the hell was that noise?" Harry wandered into the kitchen, putting on his glasses. "Morning, Hermione." He greeted, then turned to George, who was turning red very quickly. "Another one?" George nodded, shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry, Hermione... but you know I'm useless at this cooking thing... If mum was around..." He said, his eyes wandering to the ground.

Hermione sighed, not this again. Molly and Arthur were gone, and their sons – well, more like Fred and George – were completely lost without them. "Look, George, we _are_ magical, you have realised, right? We can _fix_ the plate." She grinned as he looked up, a smile on his face. She pulled out her wand and in a wave; it was whole again, the other half having joined it.

Fred grinned. "Well done. We were only testing you. Knew you could pass, Mione." He clapped a hand over her shoulder and she rolled her eyes.

Hermione let out a giggle. "We may be able to fix the plate, guys. But I think breakfast is screwed." She laughed as Fred looked down at the pot he'd been stirring to find it a green goop. "What were you trying to make?"

"SHIT!" He shouted, pulling it off the stove. He threw it in the sink and turned on the tap, watching glumly as it sizzled.

"Wha –" Charlie sat up, egg smeared across his face. "What stinks?"

"Well, I'm not sure whether it's the breakfast up your nose, or whatever Fred was trying to cook." Ginny walked in casually. "I'm thinking the latter." She said, reaching up and pecking Harry on the lips. Hermione felt jealous at her gesture, wanting her own relationship with a wonderful man. She pushed it away.

"Good morning, Gin." Was chorused throughout the kitchen.

Charlie glanced at the clock and stood up quickly. "I'm late!" He said, wiping the egg off his face.

"Late? For what?" Hermione asked curiously, wondering if she should mention that he was shirtless.

He stopped and turned to her, embracing her quickly, causing her to cringe as some egg dripped onto her shoulder. "I've got a wedding to stop. Can't have my best friend marry that bitch!"

"Charlie –"

"Bye, I'll see you all later."

"Give Oliver my condolences!" Ginny yelled, cutting off Hermione once again as she attempted to tell 'the Bachelor', as he was dubbed, that he would probably need a shirt. He was gone with a pop once outside the door.

And then he came back, grabbed the nearest dress shirt – the one he'd hung on the refrigerator – and left with a quick hug to Hermione as she scolded him.

An hour later, the twins had been charged with dishes duty after a hearty breakfast, Harry had gone off to work, and Ginny was planning her attack on the harlots that were no doubt going to exit Ron's room some time before lunch.

"Okay, so I think paint bombs... or possibly even just turning them very subtly green... But neither of them can tell! Aha! It's _brilliant_!"

"And completely evil." Hermione said, raising her eyebrows.

Ginny grinned, rubbing her hands together. "Of course – do you expect anything less? C'mon, we need a new tradition around here, Hermione." She sang.

"Yes, but this new tradition involves _me_ ending up pulling you and Ronald apart in order to keep the carpets free of blood." She reminded Ginny lightly, though she was curious as to how this plan would work. "You lot are going to give me grey hairs." She muttered, standing up.

Ginny smiled sweetly. "Too late, Mione."

Hermione spun around to face her, panic stricken. "I don't have grey hairs, do I?" She demanded.

Ginny laughed at her best friend's antics. "Of course not, Hermione. You're only twenty-two years old! And even _we're_ not that bad!"

Hermione sighed. "Oh, I beg to differ." Ginny, Fred and George gave out an indignant shout of 'Hey!' but it was ignored as Hermione trudged up the stairs. She launched herself on her bed and pulled a pillow over her face.

"Troubles with the brood, love?" Sirius inquired.

She took the pillow off her head, her hair even more like a birds nest than before. "Why is it that you choose to inhabit _my_ bedroom, Sirius?" She asked, looking quite deadly, though her tone suggested otherwise.

"It's the best room in the house." He said smugly.

"You have seven other portraits throughout the house, Sirius – not including the one in the sitting room. This is merely one of them. Unless you can find six good reasons that you can't inhabit those ones, then I'm removing you." She threatened.

He smirked, his painted eyes appearing to twinkle. "Well, firstly, _nobody_ wants to see how Ron wakes up. So his room is out of the question. Harry and Ginny... Well, they need their couple time. George's room isn't very pretty. Fred's room has a really bad view of the street... How many's that?" He looked at her grinning.

"Four. Continue."

"Charlie never wears a shirt in his room, and love, I am certainly _not_ gay." He said, tilting his nose up and causing her to giggle. "And lastly, you have to be my favourite person in the entire house. Of course I have to visit you."

She smiled. "You've always been such a smooth talker, Sirius." Hermione feigned sweetness. "But unfortunately, any woman with a brain can see that it's all bullshit." She said, gathering her clothing and heading for the shower.

"Bullshit? It is not!" He said indignantly. "It's perfectly wonderful –"

"Utter nonsense." She finished for him, closing the door on his defence. Turning on the tap, she ignored the loud SMACK and screams from the floor above her, and jumped in, feeling the warm water cascade down her back.

They had surfaced much earlier than expected... Ginny must've woken them up. She knew Ron wouldn't have been happy at being woken up at an hour such as 9.30 in the morning.

Hermione smiled fondly at the typical morning in Grimmauld Place. Disaster after disaster. Followed by a shower and then the going to work.

Though she was glad that the war was over, Hermione couldn't help but feel sadness that they were into a routine of their own as young adults without Molly or Arthur – or rather any adult supervision to keep them in good health.

It had been four years, and still they mourned. They would never stop mourning – just as they would never stop living. And consequentially, whilst what she now considered family lived, Hermione was given the role of mother. She kept them in line and they feared her wrath. She stopped the fights and the pranks – knew all of them best. They knew not to defy her... not that it stopped them.

She felt herself grin at the shouting of Ron and Ginny. A laugh escaped her throat as the Professional Quidditch Player and the Clothes Designer argued over said clothes designer's prank on the harlots that had exited the quidditch player's room.

"You're just JEALOUS!" His voice rang out.

"Jealous?!" She screeched back. "I'm not GAY! Unlike –"

"Oh, Merlin help me..." Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes and scrubbing at her scalp. She needed the distraction. Calling Ron gay was probably the worst insult... Calling Harry gay simply scared the name-caller more scared when he agreed, making Ginny paranoid.

She knew it was going to be a long day, and by sound of the arguing that had now moved downstairs, a long night, too. She bit back a laugh as she dried and dressed herself, choosing to wear her favourite yellow summer dress. She left her hair down to dry in a mass of luxurious curls, thanks to her shampoo.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, it was quiet... until Ron spotted her. "She called me gay, Hermione!" He said, outraged.

"Ginny, you know not to call your brother gay." She scolded, holding back her own laugh as Ginny grinned triumphantly.

"Sorry, Hermione." She said, not meaning a word of it. "You off to work?" Hermione nodded, smiling. "Are we doing lunch today? I've got pretty much a free day now that Hannah's decided to go model searching."

"Yeah, why not?" Hermione said lightly. "The Three Broomsticks at one?" Ginny agreed enthusiastically and Hermione left with a pop on the front steps, leaving the two feuding siblings to brood as Fred and George had already gone to the shop. Thus was a typical morning in Grimmauld Place.

By lunch time, Hermione was furious. Seething. Her new boss, Dexter Furston, was a complete and utter sleaze. The entire time she had been writing the column, he was looking over her shoulder and staring at her tits. Sleaze bag.

She sat down heavily at Ginny's table and scowled. "The new boss?" Ginny asked and watched, amused, as she nodded angrily. "Honey, you're gorgeous, of course he's going to perve." She had read her mind.

"Yes, but does he have to be so obvious about it?!" She almost shouted.

Ginny snorted. "He's male. You're hot stuff. He's a perve. Obvious is his thing. Don't worry, if he keeps bugging you, you have plenty of jobs around just waiting for you."

Hermione sighed. "I know, I know. But really, Ginny. I don't want to work in the ministry. I don't want to work for you – I'm sorry. I _refuse_ to work as a lawyer. And being a doctor... Well, I'd get far too attached." She had listed them in her head.

Ginny bit her lip. "You could always buy Flourish and Blotts. They're selling up now, haven't you heard?"

Hermione's eyes widened and she gasped in shock. "No!"

"Yes!" Ginny said, looking saddened. "Mr. Flourish is on his death bed and Mr. Blotts doesn't want to run the shop without him."

"That is so sad..." Hermione said. She'd been one of their most loyal customers.

"You could always buy it from them..." Ginny said, lifting a brow in question.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't afford that. And before you _even_ say it, Gin, I am _not_ borrowing money from you and Harry. It's not right of me."

"But –"

"Nothing, Gin. I love you, and thank you for the offer, but I'll just stick it out at The Daily Prophet. It's not like I'm not strong or stubborn enough for it." She said sincerely.

"Thus is true." Ginny agreed, deciding that Hermione had a point. But she was still going to talk to Harry later. "Now, what's for lunch? I'm absolutely starving!" She said, patting her flat stomach.

Hermione grinned and picked up a menu, following her friend's example.


	2. Dance With Me

**Yeah, yeah, I know, bad author! BAD AUTHOR! Well, cheer up, and forgive me? Here's the second chapter. With loads of help from Siriusly Lovely, for the wonderful fantastic idea that is this chapter. Very appreciated. :)**

**Chapter Two**

Two days later found Hermione seated in front of Oliver Wood. A very drunk and ragged looking Oliver Wood. She frowned at him as he ordered his second fire whiskey since their 'interview' had begun.

This interview had been set up by Oliver's agent, Jacob Hollis, in order to publicly announce why the much publicised wedding of Oliver Wood, Puddlemere United's finest keeper had been called off. On the day. Which had ended very badly. He was still sporting quite an angry bruise on his right cheek.

"Listen, Wood, I know it was tough on you, but now's your chance to straighten things out with the public. _Explain_ why you didn't go through with it." Hermione tried, but her only response was a grunt from the broad quidditch player as he stared into the depths of his fire whiskey. She huffed and folded her arms, settling to simply glare at him.

What she didn't know was that Oliver Wood was thinking very deeply. Not about his ex-fiancé, and how she hated him, etcetera; but he was thinking about the _reason_ he stopped the weeding. And she was sitting right in front of him. Her beautiful brown eyes, and those wild curls. Not to mention her amazing curves. And then there were the added brains and sense of humour and her general personality. Gwen hadn't had a personality, other than gold-digger.

She sighed and he almost jumped, remembering that she _was_ actually there. "Okay, I know we haven't been friends since that night at Harry and Ginny's wedding, but for goodness sakes! Wood, I have a bloody article to get finished and you have a reputation to salvage. Can we _please_ get on with it?"

He loved how she looked when she was mad. He'd loved it _that night at Harry and Ginny's wedding_, too. He'd fallen in love with her at Potter's wedding, but both of them had been oblivious to it... until _he_ was informed by his so-called best friend, Charlie, who had so rudely told him he was an...

"_Idiot! Yes, that's right, I just called you an idiot." Oliver scoffed as Charlie stood in front of him, staring him down. "You're so thick that you can't see what this bimbo really wants with you. She using you for the money, for the fame!" Charlie shouted at him – and Oliver could not stop the feeling that Charlie was right._

_He shook his head. "No, no you're wrong about Gwen. She's –"_

"_You don't look at her, Oliver." Charlie interrupted boldly. "Not the way you look at someone else. You _know_ who I'm talking about." _

"_Shut your mouth, Charlie." He said angrily, standing up and shoving the redhead. "You don't know anything! I love Gwen. Not _her_. She doesn't have feelings for me, and I certainly do _not_ have feelings for her." He said, though he wondered if his words held any such truth to them._

"_Stop lying to yourself, Oliver." Charlie said as they stared one another down. "At Ginny's wedding –"_

"_At that wedding, I felt nothing but lust. And only lust. That is all. Now, drop it, Weasley, before I drop you." He growled angrily. _

_Charlie threw his hands up in the air, looking defeated. "Fine, marry that bitch, just don't expect me to be there for your funeral – I mean, wedding." Charlie sneered, reaching for the door handle. "If you can't accept your own feelings, then you have no hope left." And the redhead was gone, leaving Oliver to his thoughts._

Of course, Oliver had only gotten as far as the alter, before he walked off. He watched Gwen come down the aisle, blonde hair and boobs on show – gorgeous. But he wasn't in love with her. She was in love with his money... and she certainly wasn't Hermione.

Hermione, meanwhile, was reminiscing her own memories of Oliver. She watched as he zoned out and turned away, not wanting to stare at someone who was in another world, reminding her strongly of Harry and Ginny's wedding, and the night she and Oliver Wood had really _seen_ each other.

"_Hermione Granger?" He asked, looking her up and down with an emotion akin to shock. She smiled tightly, remembering the face, but unable to place the handsome Scotsman. "Wow, you've certainly changed." He remarked, smiling down at her._

"_Sorry – I don't think I –"_

"_Oliver, Oliver Wood." He introduced, again. "How have you been? I mean, I heard you're into journalism now, but how's the rest of your life doing?" He rambled, feeling quite nervous. _

_She smiled, recognition in her eyes. "Oh, yes, I do remember you. My life is, err, great. Are you still obsessed with Quidditch?" She asked playfully, a smirk playing on her lips. _

_He let out a laugh. "Ooh, now she comes with attitude. And yes, to answer your question. Still quite obsessed." _

_She laughed lightly, taking a swig of her Champaign. "So, are you here with anyone, then?" She asked curiously. _

_He gave a grimace. "Yeah... her name is Gwen. The blonde thing over there." He looked over to his right. Her first impression of the blonde was _gorgeous_, and then she took in the flirtatious laughter and the way she was standing so close to Ronald, and well, _bimbo_ came next._

"_Ah, she looks lovely." Hermione remarked with sarcasm. Oliver snickered as they sat down at a nearby table._

"_Everyone, everyone listen up." Arthur suddenly announced. "It's time for the Bride and Groom to dance their first dance." Everyone's eyes were trained on the happy couple, Hermione's and many others, filled with jealousy and longing. Harry pulled Ginny up and they happily made their way to the dance floor, dancing to the slow music that filled the room. _

_The next thing she knew, there was a calloused hand blocking her view of the happy couple and a smiling Oliver Wood looking down at her, hazel coloured eyes sparkling with some sort of emotion. "Dance with me?" He enquired, earning himself a soft smile from the brunette, her hand slipping comfortably into his._

_They spent the evening dancing, envious looks shot at them from a certain blonde bimbo who would sink her claws into Oliver Wood that very night._

She came out of her reverie by the movement at her side. Oliver was staring at her, his darkened eyes looking far from what they had at the wedding. "Do you remember that first dance, Granger?" He asked, his words slurred slightly.

She inclined her head, hiding the flush that crept into her face. _Had he just read her thoughts?_ "Yes, I do, Wood." She said, watching him carefully for any sign of his next intended move.

He stood from his stool at the bar, holding out his hand. "Dance with me?" Hermione shook her head, biting her lip, for fear of what would spill forth from her lips. He frowned at her. "At least a walk, for good-times' sakes?" He asked, wobbling on his feet slightly.

She released her lip and took Oliver's offered hand, cautiously. "Where are we going, Wood?" She wondered, her thoughts scrambling, as though packing up shop and deserting her to her own stupidity. And how stupid she was being. She knew, deep down, in the very depths of her scrambled mind that she should have declined. She should have left Oliver Wood to his own devices.

"I don't know. Off to Wonderland, I 'spose." He answered.

But she couldn't resist. Oliver Wood had some kind of pull over her, there was something about him that just made Hermione squirm and feel completely safe at the same time. But of course, this was just for old-times' sake. Right?


	3. Walking on Hot Air

**Chapter Three**

He was wobbling on his feet, unsteady and she could smell the alcohol – thick in his breath. She took a deep breath of cold air. "Wood, I really need you to answer my questions." Hermione sighed exasperatedly.

He stopped walking and dropped her hand. He turned to face her, his nose slightly pink – from the cold or the alcohol, Hermione didn't know. "There's always something with you, isn't there Granger? There's always something you _need_ that I can't provide." He scowled.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, also remembering the morning that was fuelling his anger. "Wood..." She tried to reason tiredly.

"No, Hermione. Do you remember it?" He asked, his face suddenly very close to hers. "Do you remember how I woke up that morning, and you wouldn't let me say what I needed to say?"

"Y-yes." She stuttered, knowing what was coming.

"Well, I'm going t' say it now, alright?" He asked, quite forcefully. He pointed one calloused finger at her, his eyes holding some kind of emotion that she couldn't quite place. It was burning into her, though, and as he took a deep breath, she felt as though she knew his words already.

She swallowed. "Wood, please, I don't think –"

He cut her off. "That's what you do. You _think_ too much!" He said loudly and _THUNK_!

Hermione gasped as Oliver rolled over in pain, having slipped on the icy ground and hit his head on the nearest rock. Oh, he was full of luck today. She shook her head and helped him up. "C'mon, you, better get you into St. Mungo's." She said, amused, as he tried to stand, finding that he was more unsteady than before. She fought the urge to ask him how his trip was.

"I don't –" He began, but cut himself off with a groan. "To Mungo's." Oliver said, preparing for apparation. Hermione laughed to herself and apparated them both to the hospital with a pop.

They were soon in the waiting room, the nurses having labelled him 'low-risk', and Hermione was getting impatient with the drunken, possibly concussed, Oliver Wood. "Y'know, Hermione, your hair, it stopped bein' so bushy when you left Hogwarts... I think it might be 'cause you stopped stressin' so much." He pointed out.

She put a hand up to her hair self-consciously. "Was it really that bad?" She wondered out loud, more to herself than Oliver.

"Oh, yes. It looked like someone had given yeh and electric shock!" He exclaimed loudly, giving a hearty laugh to go with it.

She scowled. Now Hermione found herself wishing that rock had done a better job and knocked him out cold.

A nurse suddenly came out with her list in hand. "Wood, Oliver." She announced, looking around the room.

"That's me!" He exclaimed, standing up, only to stumble back into a peeved Hermione, who barely caught him. "Oof," He said as she pushed him forward with force. "Sorry darlin'." He said to nurse as he brushed her shoulder.

"Of course, the pretty _nurse_ gets an apology, but _I_ don't." Hermione muttered angrily to herself as she followed Oliver and the nurse through the doors, where she found him a bed with curtains.

"Now, I'll just get a doctor and he'll be sorted out in a moment." She said, leaving Hermione alone with Oliver.

"But your hair isn't so bushy now." He continued as if he had never stopped. "It's nice, and caramel coloured. Almost. More like honey... matches your eyes, I think." He then peered into her eyes, just in case he was wrong. But he wasn't. She leant away from him, the burning smell of fire whiskey making her feel ill.

The doctor entered and Hermione nearly lost her breath. He was gorgeous. He dark hair and blue eyes that seemed... unnatural. He was tall and very handsome, with broad shoulders and large, gentle looking hands. She blinked when he spoke, coming back to earth.

"Now, Mr. Wood?" He asked, gaining a confirming nod from both. "I'm Doctor Hugo. Tell me what happened. How did he hit his head?" He addressed this question to Hermione, who blushed under his gaze.

"Well, he just slipped on the ice, and he hit his head on the – on the rock that was just – there." She finished lamely, feeling like a stuttering teenager again. He smiled and she had to look away.

"May I get your name, too, Miss...?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"Granger, Hermione Granger." She smiled nervously, taking his hand in hers and shaking it.

"Pleasure." He said, smiling down at her.

Oliver was beginning to get impatient. "Are we going to fix me now? Or are you gonna stand there and flirt with her? Because I don't think I need a doctor, I think I need that pretty nurse back here." He slurred.

The Doctor raised his eyebrow at Hermione who laughed almost bitterly. "He has also consumed numerous amounts of alcohol today. Which explains how easily he fell over."

"Only for you, baby." He retorted childishly.

Hermione scowled. "He doesn't really mean that. He's just drunk... and being childish." She said, watching as the doctor examined his head. "Usually he's just really moody."

"You sound like you know him well." The doctor said, insinuating that the two were very close.

Her head snapped up at that remark. "Oh, no, not at all. We dislike each other a lot, actually." She defended casually. He smiled and she found she really liked that smile.

"Open your eyes, Mr. Wood." Doctor Hugo instructed, lighting up his wand. He shone it into Oliver's eyes and nodded to himself, giving Hermione a smile.

"Eyes back on me, Doctor." Oliver said forcefully.

The doctor chuckled, pulling away from his patient. "He's going to be fine. There will be a lump there tomorrow, but other than that, he just needs sleep and a lot of non-alcoholic beverages." He said, amused.

Oliver grinned. "Now we can leave. C'mon, Granger, back to the pub with us."

"Erm, I don't think so, Wood. You're going home." She said sternly, holding him upright from behind as he took each stumbling step.

"You cann'a make me go home if you don't know where it is!" He exclaimed gleefully.

Hermione and the Doctor shared a look of exasperation. "Is there somewhere you can take him? We don't have enough beds for him to stay the night." Hugo advised.

"I'm sure Harry's place can house one more." She sighed, walking him to apparation point. "Thank you, doctor." She smiled and they were gone with a pop.

"_Thank you, doctor._" Oliver mocked once they were safely landed on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. "Could you be any more obvious," He hiccupped. "Granger? You were practically drooling."

"Are you jealous, Wood?" She rolled her eyes, calling out for someone once they were inside. "Hello?" She shouted.

"Hermione? What are you doing home so –" Ron froze as he caught sight of Oliver, leaning heavily on the door way. "Whoa. What happened to Oliver?" He asked, watching as he swayed on the spot.

"Long story. Ron, can you put him to bed?" She asked, breathlessly.

"Where do you want him?" He asked, taking hold of Oliver's shoulders and steering him toward the stairs.

"Put him next to Charlie's room." She instructed, rubbing her temples as Ron took him away, his indignant shouts of "I don't need sleep, I need more whiskey" fading away into the house. She sighed. It was time for a bath. A very long bath.

It was at that time that Charlie chose to make an appearance. He walked in, closing the door behind him gently and spotted Hermione. "You're home early." He said, giving her a warm hug.

"Yes, well, Oliver needed somewhere to stay." She said, giving Charlie a look that made him feel guilty from the very soles of his feet.

"So you've been with Oliver, then?" He asked, and Hermione did not miss the mischievous glint to his blue eyes. "That's... good. How is he? I haven't seen him since –"

"Since he broke off the marriage, I know. He's in a terrible state, Charlie." She said sympathetically casting a glance toward the stairs. "There's something else, too... But I just, I just can't place it. He gets this _look_, as if he's remembering her... He must've really loved her." She theorised, almost jealously.

_No, Hermione. He didn't love her. He loves you._ Charlie thought with sadness. _Too bad he'll never have the guts to tell you._

"Charlie? Are you listening to me?" He shook his head and smiled sheepishly. She sighed. "Never mind, then. What are you doing home today, anyway? I thought you weren't coming back until Monday?"

He gave her a hug. "Well, I was supposed to be working with this one dragon, and collecting samples, but there's this group of Rights Activists, and well, they kind of set him free." He said, giving a chuckle. "I think I'm in love with their leader." He said, before bouncing upstairs, leaving Hermione gaping like a fish at this new revelation.

Was the entire world on love potion?!


	4. Breakfast Shennanigans

**Yes, Hermione**

**Chapter Four**

Oliver awoke to a throbbing in his head. Opening his eyes, he first noticed an unfamiliar ceiling. He frowned. This was _not _his ceiling. He rubbed his eyes with his hands and yawned again, realising he was on a bed of some sorts. Rolling over to his side, he found his watch and wand on a small bedside table. It wasn't even 6:00am.

Yawning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up – regretting it instantly as the throbbing turned to a thudding. He groaned, placing his head in his hands. _Well, I'd better figure out where I am_, he thought to himself and managed to push his aching body to a standing position. Tentatively, he opened the door, peeking out into the unfamiliar hall, and saw a light coming from the bottom of a set of stairs. He decided to follow it.

Quietly as he could, Oliver crept over to the landing of the stairs and looked down towards the light – finally, something he recognised. A portrait with a sleeping Sirius Black in it told him he was in the Grimmauld Place house. Where Harry Potter, the remainder of the Weasley's and – _Oh, bloody hell_, he thought as memories from the previous day flooded back to him. Yes, Hermione Granger lived here. And Oliver had made an absolute fool out of himself in front of her – the object of his affection… not that she could possibly know _that_.

"Harry? Is that you?" A voice floated up from the light, and Oliver knew who it belonged to. "Hello?" She called again.

"Uhh, no… Granger, it's… me." He stuttered out.

Her head appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a book in her hand. "Oh, Wood… Err, how are you feeling?" She asked.

He rubbed his temples. "Not so fantastic," He said. "Why are you awake so early?"

She sighed, folding down the corner of a page and closing her book. "I've not been sleeping so well lately… I've been up since half-four." She said, glancing at the clock. "I should probably start breakfast actually, before the brood wakes up – are you hungry?" With a grin, he nodded vigorously. "Alright then, you can help."

As it turned out, Hermione liked to make breakfast the muggle way, which made no sense to Oliver at all. When he had questioned her methods, she had glared at him ferociously and said "just because I have a magic wand, does _not_ mean I can be lazy and forget my muggle background." And then added, "Besides, this is my father's best pancake recipe, and it is to _die_ for."

Oliver also noticed how she hummed when she cooked, and shifted her weight from foot-to-foot, as though she were dancing. He couldn't help but watch – she was mesmerizing, her bushy hair swaying with her in an almost hypnotic way.

"Granger," He said, standing nervously around the kitchen table. She turned to look at him. "I – er, thank you for, y'know, last night and all." He said, with a half-smile. "You really didn't have to do that." He looked down at his feet in shame and heard her as she laughed.

"Really, Wood, it's fine… It was rather entertaining, actually." She said with a grin, which was apparently contagious, as Oliver mirrored it.

A loud BOOM! Filled the air, and they both jumped out of their skins. They froze into place, instincts that remained from the war kicking in. "What on earth..?" Hermione muttered; her wand already in her hand.

"I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BLOODY BASTARDS!" Was heard, coming from Charlie's room.

Hermione instantly relaxed, her wand tucked back into the pocket of her robe. "I wonder what they've done now," Hermione mused aloud, turning back to her cooking as loud running footsteps echoed through the house, followed by yells of "What in Merlin's name is going on?!" from Ginny.

In a blur of movement, Fred and George, followed by one very aggravated Charlie, were at a stand-off and the kitchen table, sturdy as it was, was the only thing that kept Charlie from reaching them. He had his wand aimed at them both, and they stood with their hands up in surrender, cheeky grins on their faces.

Hermione whipped around, hands on hips. "What have you done to Charlie?" She said, giving the twins a withering look.

George doubled over in laughter and Fred began to explain, but was cut off by Charlie. "Their version of a _wake-up call_ is to levitate my bloody bed, and _ever so kindly_," He gritted out, "Turn it over and drop it on me!"

Hermione covered her mouth to briefly supress her bubbling laughter, and Oliver shook his head and sniggered. She cleared her throat, a red flush staining her cheeks. "Well, Fred, George, what do you have to, err, say for yourselves?" She asked, an eyebrow raised unapprovingly in their direction.

"Well," George began, containing his laughter. "It wasn't _going _to be Charlie…"

"It was _meant _for dear old Wood here," George gestured to Oliver, who merely narrowed his eyes. "But he wasn't in his bed when we turned up to make his hangover worse."

"Well, you shouldn't have done it." Hermione said sternly, "And I'm sure Charlie would like an apology… preferably _before _he hexes you." She said calmly.

"Sorry, Charlie." Fred said.

"Yeah, sorry, brother." George chimed in, both of them peering down at their feet.

Charlie narrowed his eyes at the both of them and lowered his wand reluctantly. "You had better not do it again, or I'll avada you!" He threatened seriously, shaking his wand at the both of them, who were now grinning again, much like the Cheshire Cat.

"Oh, and by the way," Hermione said, placing the plates on the table. "Breakfast is ready. Please go wake Harry and Ginny, will you?" She instructed.

"Yes, Hermione." Fred and George said simultaneously, mischief sparking in their eyes.

"Take Charlie with you!" She called after them, rolling her eyes as Charlie huffed and followed them up the stairs to supervise.

A/N: I'm back! Yep. So here we are! Hope you enjoyed it! I'm unemployed now, so I'm sure I'll have some time on my hands, which means I have no doubt you'll hear from me again soon! love love!


	5. What an Arse!

**AN: Okay, so I know the last chapter was a bit airy fairy and not much content to it, but I'm only just getting back into posting things… So, let's see if I can do better today!**

**Chapter Five**

Charlie Weasley was incredibly concerned. He sat at the kitchen table, watching with disdain as his best mate downed another glass of firewhiskey miserably. "Mate, don't you think you've had enough?" It had barely been three days since his trip to St. Mungo's and Charlie was deeply worried that at this rate, there would be a return trip soon.

Oliver Wood scowled. "There is never enough whiskey, my friend!" He said, pouring himself another as Charlie gingerly sipped at his own. "'Sides, I think I'm goin' ta need plenty more before we head out and pick us up some lovely birds!" He said gleefully, an impish grin forming on his face.

"I don't think this is a good idea…" Charlie said doubtfully.

"Neither do I," Oliver said, "I think it's a GREAT idea!"

Charlie sighed loudly. "You're lucky you're my best mate, y'know. Most people wouldn't put up with this rubbish." He complained.

Oliver laughed. "Most people have more friends than you!"

Charlie couldn't help but laugh at the insult. "I _must _be desperate then!" He shot back, earning himself the middle finger salute. "But seriously, mate, have you even thought about telling her?"

Oliver glared at Charlie. "Have I _thought _about telling her?" He scoffed. "'Course I have! I think about her all the time, she's stuck in my head like a bloody song… She has been since your bloody sister's wedding. I've just been ignoring it. And now – well, NOW I don't have a gorgeous blonde with gigantic tits to distract me." He ranted. "Which, by the way, I blame all on you."

Charlie found himself sighing once more. "If you just _talked _to her – Hermione is a reasonable person…"

"Yeah, too bloody reasonable. _She _was the one who decided it was a one-night stand. _She _was the one who avoided me at all costs for an entire MONTH after it happened. Something tells me she doesn't feel the same way!" He swallowed the rest of his whiskey with a grimace.

"Look, Oliver, I know Hermione… she probably just got scared. She's never acted irrationally before. If you show her –"

"Enough, Charlie, I've had enough." Oliver said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Now, let's get drunk and find us someone to warm our beds tonight." With that, he stood and headed for the door.

Unbeknownst to them, another member of the Weasley family had been standing out of sight – but definitely NOT out of earshot. Ginny Potter's eyes were wide with shock as she stood with a hand over her mouth, stifling her gasp. "Merlin's beard!" She said under her breath. Oliver Wood was most definitely in LOVE with Hermione Granger. Oh this was _good_… better than good, this was… _Brilliant_! It was then and there that she decided poor Oliver needed some help.

**~ Yes, Hermione ~**

Hermione Granger was smiling widely as she entered the Grimmauld Place house that night. Her eyes were almost glazed over with happiness as she floated up the stairs. It was quite late – nearly midnight, in fact, and Hermione wasn't in any mood to care. She quietly climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and flopping down on her bed. Her night had been perfect.

She had just had _the_ best interview of her life, with stunningly handsome Doctor Hugo Rattely. She had been assigned to write a piece on the new doctor at St. Mungo's and had readily accepted, as she had already met him, and was indeed keen to see him again. She sighed happily.

He was fantastic; he had done so many wonderful things – oh, and that _dazzling_ smile – it took her breath away. They had agreed to meet the following evening to continue her interview, and she couldn't be happier. He was so lovely.

A knock sounded on her door. She gave the call to come in and Ginny entered with a sleepy smile on her face. "You're home late, love." She stated, sitting next to Hermione on her bed.

"Yes, sorry if I woke you." She said, hiding her smile.

"So how was your incredibly long day?" Ginny prompted.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "It wasn't too bad, actually. How was yours? Are the renovations coming along nicely?"

Ginny lit up. "Oh, yes, you should see it! The Burrow, it looks brand new. My new assistants are doing a wonderful job!" She gushed, excitedly.

Hermione yawned. "That's good, Gin."

Ginny mirrored Hermione's position on the bed, lying down on her side, head propped up on her elbow. "So, Oliver was here again today." She stated teasingly. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Him and Charlie were heading out tonight, and Merlin! You should have seen how perfectly gorgeous he looked… He's so handsome. If I wasn't married…" She said dreamily with a laugh.

Hermione laughed. "If you weren't married, Ginny, you would be miserable!"

Ginny grinned happily. "Oh, I know, but Harry is away a lot, and a girl can get awfully lonely. Besides, it doesn't hurt to look!" She giggled mischievously. "Especially when he has such a nice arse from all that quidditch!"

Hermione scoffed at her words, shaking her head. "But he's such an arse himself!"

Ginny laughed lightly and suddenly looked at Hermione squarely. "What exactly happened that night? Y'know, the night of my wedding? Between the two of you, I mean…"

Hermione sighed and rolled onto her back, eyes on the canopy above her bed. "I'm placing it down to a bad judgment call, I think… There was just something about him that night and I think it has something to do with all of that champagne, somehow." She laughed, not noticing Ginny's silence.

"So why didn't you ask him out on a date?"

Hermione looked at her friend suspiciously. "Why are you suddenly asking? What are you up to?" She asked sharply.

Ginny looked offended – or pretended to. "I'm just curious, 'Mione. I always thought you hated him for some reason and I wanted to know why."

"What made you think I hate him, Gin? Of course I don't!"

"Well," Ginny bit her lip. "You avoided him for ages after that night, and you were so annoyed when you were told to cover his disaster of a wedding, I just figured you had to have some reason." She said.

Hermione looked at her friend again, seriously. "I avoided him because… well, I'm not entirely sure, really. That night, I must've been out of my mind. He's just so handsome and rich, not to mention arrogant, rude and now a _drunk_… I guess I thought I'd better stay away…"

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed. "It was a pure moment of fantasy for me that someone like _him_ could even…" She trailed off, not wanting to continue, and so changed direction. "For God's sake, he was _engaged_ to the very woman he brought to your wedding, even after he told me she wasn't his girlfriend at the time. Now that has _got_ to say something about him, hasn't it?"

Ginny laughed. "You think _way_ too much, darling. I'm sorry, I was just curious… That's all." She said. "I'm off to sleep, good night, Hermione." She said warmly.

Hermione sighed in relief as Ginny and her questions left. She hated thinking about Oliver Wood, let alone talking about him! He was so pigheaded and selfish. He was obsessed with quidditch and by God, he was such a player. Well, that was before he got into a serious relationship with that bimbo, but still, Hermione felt he had used her, and after, when the alcohol had worn off, despite her instincts to do it again, she had decided that it wasn't worth the risk of getting hurt.

Although… Ginny did have a point… he did have a really, _really _nice arse, and Hermione found herself thinking about it now... With a huff of annoyance she sat up quickly. Of course, she would never admit THAT to anyone… EVER.


End file.
